Tag Archives: joy

Dusken Sensibility

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Sometimes on long walks I write poems in my head. When I get home, I try to scribble them down madly before I lose them again. For many reasons, I’m pretty sure my neighbors think I’m an absolute nut, but probably the fact that on certain days I walk down the street in complete revery, forming out loud stanzas, really cements it.

This is walk-born poem, simple in verse but heartfelt in message:

Footstep after footstep, crunching after crunching, I walk.

Down the front steps, through the winding driveway, and out onto the street.

It’s dusk. That velvety time when the sky’s a watercolor of brilliant light and yet the ground and trees grow ever darker.

I slip off my sandals, because I can never really feel a moment with my shoes on.

The pavement’s cold. The acorns prick. But that’s part of it, and so I welcome it.

I glance through windows as I pass, catching snippets of others’ life.

There’s a son embracing his mother over the kitchen sink, and she’s smiling deep.

There’s a family holding hands around the table, with eyes closed.

There’s a couple sitting out on the front step, silently looking up at the sky, as he slowly puts his arm around her.

I’m sure they fight, I’m sure they hurt each other, and I’m sure they’re imperfect.

But on evenings like these, how can anyone help but become sensible again?

Because, you know, joy’s the only sensible feeling.

All else it just a perversion of thought.

I reach the end of the street. There’s the pasture, lined with fading crate and myrtles.

Leaning on the cracking wooden fence, I call quietly.

She comes, nuzzling my hand, looking for a carrot or some sugar.

“I’m sorry darling, I didn’t bring anything today.”

I stroke her gently, solemnly.

She whinnies softly, letting me know this behavior’s just not acceptable.

Whispering, I tell her how beautiful the sky is.

How the leaves are changing color.

How the air is cold and chill.

How everyone’s happy and joyful.

How even, when the last couple days are as wretched as can be, my whole view of life can be changed by just one sunset.

She nuzzles my cheek and then trots away, carrying all my secrets with her.

I turn around and make my way down the street.

The sky’s dimming. The lampposts cast their golden puddles of light.

Smoke, wafting out of a chimney. Laughter, heard through cracked windows.

It makes me smile. All this sensibility. Where’d it come from?

How can small things, like the arrangement of clouds and the way light shines through, change the way we feel?

Harmony of head and heart is wondrous.

—-  —-  —-

How hard it is for me to say that joy’s the only sensible feeling! When I see the news, when I hear stories, and when I experience tragedy, all I want to do is say, “Oh, mourn! Cry! Get it all out! How could such a thing happen? How could it be allowed?” Mourning is warranted most times. Because, frankly, life sucks sometimes. A lot of times. But we can’t dwell on it. That’s where it gets unhealthy. That’s where it gets contagious. And that’s where it gets just plain insensible. So I hope that makes sense. I really don’t mean that mourning, sorrow, and anger have no place. They do! If we didn’t express them, we’d all be balloons, bobbing around tranquilly, but popping and vanishing the moment something sharp pierces us.

But when it comes down to it, we’ve been given a beautiful earth, beautiful people to share it with, and beautiful beings to experience it with. Joy follows naturally.

Listening to: Katie Herzig – Oh my Darlin’

Reading: Robinson Crusoe

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Things to Smile About

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  1. old oaken desks with scratches and stains
  2. fun magazines coming in the mail
  3. the flickering of candlelight
  4. splashing through puddles barefoot
  5. a tree with leaves bedewed
  6. new experiences
  7. memories that flood at random
  8. dried flowers with scent that lingers, long after color has left
  9. airplane tickets, folded and creased
  10. being surrounded with things that have history
  11. ballet flats
  12. books that have been well loved
  13. a doorful of scarves, all with a story
  14. frighteningly enormous handmade slippers
  15. picking up forgotten hobbies again
  16. people that make me laugh deep
  17. a basket of yarn and needles
  18. mini jam jars brought from Ireland
  19. manchego cheese with butter snaps
  20. ‘ain’t’s, ‘bless your heart’s, and ‘y’all’s
  21. adorable babies who giggle and squawk
  22. a new member in our family
  23. college football games (go dawgs!)
  24. books to add to my ‘to read’ list
  25. a cat who wakes me up in the morning
What are you smiling about today, this rainy day in October? I challenge you to at least stop for a moment and think of just a few things that bring joy to your life, no matter how small. Cause somedays it can feel like you’ve an eternal to-do list, can’t it? And no matter what you finish more just keeps coming? Well, let’s slow. Because today everything that needs to be done will be done but not everything that needs to be enjoyed will wait before drifting into yesterday.
Listening to: Spotify’s pop radio
Reading: Robinson Crusoe (I know I’m reading really slowly!) and The Whistling Season
Learning: how to crochet again! 🙂 so much fun.
Martha